Throw a Dollar At It
by BulwinkleJMoose
Summary: Elena's always been bothered by that little quip of Damon's . . . he just never realized how much and why. Don't think too hard about when this takes place or about characters not present in the scene, it'll just make you headachy. Rated to be on the safe side, mostly contains cuteness and fluff, some bad language.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or copyrighted names or items described herein. I only borrow them to have a lot more fun with them than anyone who DOES own them would ever dare.

There is nothing like the smell of a hot girl just out of the shower. I can't get enough of it, and it is hands down THE best way to evoke a FABULOUS visual – wet, naked, hair slicked back, flushed from the hot water . . . ah, I get a chubby just thinking about it.

You can understand, therefore, why I started timing my evening visits to Elena to just when she gets out of the shower. I can sit on her windowsill and enjoy the scent in the quiet of her cute, girly room, imagining her rubbing that towel across her damp skin, collecting the little drops of water from between her breasts, across her stomach, between her . . .

"Damon!"

There we go. God, that look on her face is just adorable. If she thinks scowling at me and scolding me is gonna get me to stop this, she better think again. Forget chubby, I am hard in my jeans now. She's got a drop of water clinging to her upper lip, and I want to lap it off her.

"Oh relax, it's nothing I haven't seen before." I smirk at her, running my eyes over the exposed parts of her body. She closes her mouth suddenly, her eyes wide. "And if I do see something I haven't before, I'll –"

"Yeah, yeah, you'll throw a dollar at it. I know." The line of her shoulders sags, and her gaze drops to the floor. She isn't clutching at her towel anymore, like she could magically make it cover more of her skin just by the force of her fingers. She turns, grabbing her pajamas and walking back into the bathroom and closing the door.

Wait, something's wrong here.

Why didn't she yell at me? She just gives in and leaves – what, that's – that's not what she was supposed to do! She's supposed to give me a lecture on privacy and not being a creep, and maybe throw something at me. She's supposed to be defiant, maybe do that nifty trick girls have where they can change under a towel without exposing themselves (gotta love that, it's like a rubix cube with clothes and skin).

I walk over to the door, lifting my hand to knock, but the door opens before I can. She's changed into a camisole – no bra, VERY nice – and pj pants, and she looks absolutely yummy. It's really far too cold for such a skimpy sleepwear set, and her hard nipples pressing through the fabric of her top are only the most obvious proof. She looks up at me and my upraised hand with clear eyes, no trace of annoyance on her brow. Just sadness.

What the fuck!? I didn't want to make her sad! I just wanted to get her all riled up and sexy and stuff.

She brushes past me heading to her alarm clock. I follow, clearing my throat and rubbing a hand through my hair.

"Look, it's, it's not that big a deal, ok?" I just wanna make her feel better, I mean, it's not like I saw that much of her anyway. "I've seen you fairly scantily clad before, you know, what with all the near-death experiences and me making sure you weren't bleeding internally. And, after all, I've seen Katherine, so – " Her gaze jerks back to me, and I'm horrified at what I see there.

A single tear rolls out of her eye and down her cheek.

NO! Nononononono, abort, abort, that is NOT what I wanted, oh god please don't cry PLEASE!

"H-hey, what's . . . c'mon, I didn't see anything, really . . ." I come closer, reaching out a hand to her, but her face crumples and she turns away to lay against her pillow.

Shit. Shitshitshit. Seriously, there is nothing I enjoy less on this earth than dealing with crying women. I've never been very good at it, and . . . I dunno, I went for so many years just turning off my emotions, not really caring about what other people feel. Something about making a girl cry, it just makes that switch wobble a little bit towards the on position again. And now, when the switch is already on to begin with . . . I kneel down next to her bed, wondering what to do. Her voice is soft, but it still startles me when she speaks.

"I know that I'm not special," she whispers brokenly. "I know that there's nothing . . . like you said, I look just like Katherine anyhow . . ." She pauses to sniffle a little. "I guess . . . I hoped that someday, I might get to – to show you . . ." I'm holding very, very still, my heart pounding in my chest with its stolen pulse. Elena peeks up at me through her hair, and I reach forward and hold her hand. It's cold, so I wrap it in both of mine to warm it.

"Show me what?" I kinda feel breathless, even though I shouldn't need air. She worries her lower lip between her teeth for a moment, blushing through her tears.

"I . . . I just wanted . . ." Her eyes close around a rush of more tears. "I wanted to be able to come to you someday, and give you . . . but I guess it's not much of a gift anyway, since you've already seen it, one way or another." Her shoulders tremble with a little sob.

It's official: I am the absolute worst person in the world. Ok, maybe not quite worse than Hitler, but seriously, could I be any more of a horse's ass? I swear to god, once upon a time my stupid-ass brain understood things like that. Things like how to show affection and . . . and love for someone, and what it takes to show all your vulnerability to a person, how scary and difficult and _wonderful _it is.

And the fact is, no matter how mature and responsible Elena is, she's seventeen. Even now that I don't look at her and automatically think of Katherine anymore, sometimes it's hard for me to remember what seventeen is like. At seventeen, your body is a big deal, and for a girl, I know it's gotta be an even bigger one. Plus, she's been betrayed and abandoned by so many people, and . . . and now by me, too. It's astonishing that she's still willing to let anyone get close to her, and I should feel honored that she wanted to let me in. And I basically told her that none of that meant anything to me.

I literally couldn't feel any worse if I had kicked a puppy.

I sit there for another few moments, wanting desperately to hold her, kiss her tears away, beg forgiveness, and then show her how much she means to me. But somewhere, my brain has come up with just a little bit of intelligence, a _soupcon_ of wisdom, a smidgen of sensitivity, and I know that what Elena needs – _deserves_ is to have control of her body right now. If she forgives me and wants to share that with me, then great, but she needs to control that.

Her big, fluffy blue robe is hanging on the back of the door. I grab it and bring it back to the bed, laying it over her shoulders. At the feel of the soft fabric, she looks up, surprised and confused. I keep my eyes averted, and gently take her hand to slide it into her sleeve. She sits up, and I do the same to the other side, closing the robe around her and gently tying the belt. She's completely covered now, modest and warm enough for this chilly night. I lift her hair out of the neckline of the robe, and stroke her cheek before I lean back, sitting next to her bed. She looks at me curiously.

"Damon . . . ?" I try for a smirk, but it comes out as a grimace.

"I'm an insensitive ass." Her eyes widen at my statement. "The reason I harass you like that is because . . . I want to get close to you, and I'm too chicken-shit to just come out and say so." That . . . was significantly easier to say than I'd anticipated. "If you ever decided you wanted to share your body with me, Elena . . . I'd be the luckiest man in the world." I lean forward slowly, giving her time to stop me or back away because I actually want her to be comfortable this time around. "It would be the best gift you could ever give me."

Elena's face softens, and though two more tears creep out of her eyes, she smiles.

Somehow, I need to find a way to remind myself that THIS, this feeling, having her smile at me, is immeasurably better than whatever it was I'd wanted to get out of her before. I sit and watch her for a moment, raising my eyebrows to ask her permission, and her smile deepens as she extends her arms to me. I sit up on the bed next to her and pull her into my arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"I'm so sorry." She nuzzles against my chest at my apology, and I get an unreasonable thrill from the feeling. Seriously, I HAVE GOT to remember how surprisingly NOT difficult this is, and the results are SO much better. "I will never take you, or your body, for granted again."

I hold her for another few minutes, just enjoying the feel of her in my arms. I can tell she's getting tired, though, and since I'm not going to press her anymore tonight, I think it's time to take my leave. I lean back and kiss her forehead again, before looking into her face, now dry of tears.

"I'll let you get some rest." Her eyelids flicker as I say it, and when I stand to go, she holds fast to my hand.

"W-will you . . . stay?" Her voice is small and sweet. "Just – you know, just to sleep."

Hm, let's see here: stay in her room tonight with her, sharing her bed, likely allowed to touch her, but not, ya know, _touch _her, smelling her scent, listening to her sighs, and completely unable to do ANYTHING in response? Will I stay?

"Absolutely."

**Author's Note: Alright, kids, here's what we're gonna do. I'm not altogether sure this little scene should go any further, since it's so freakin' cute all by its lonesome. Buuuuuuuut . . . it's certainly gearing up for a VERY interesting after-scene, ain't it? So: VOTE! In the form of a REVIEW! Do we leave this as is and let them get a good night's sleep, or do we find out how deep the rabbit hole goes? I'll decide enough votes have been cast when I decide enough votes have been cast.**


	2. Voting Results

Ah, the power of democracy! The votes are in, kids, and the winner is . . . RABBIT HOLE! Special thanks to kaybaby1127 for inspiring the, shall we say, concept for this chapter. But this is the last one! After this, I'm back to one shots. Grumblemumble.

Once again, don't think too hard about when this takes place, or what the heck happened to characters like Stefan, Andy, Caroline, Tyler, etc. Just live in the moment.

It had been just about the most awful day ever – and believe me, I've had some pretty god damn awful days. I'd gotten some updates about the state of Jeremy's and my finances this morning, and long story short, it's pretty clear to me that one of us was not getting to go to college. Hell, it's not even clear to me that we're going to be able to keep our house, never mind pursue higher education. I'd always dreamed of studying journalism and literature, but Jeremy's JUST gotten himself back together . . . I knew how this was going to turn out. How it would HAVE to turn out.

Okay, compared to losing as many loved ones as I have, that isn't so bad. True. But I was just feeling so . . . weak. After yet another blow. And then Matt just HAS to go all self-preservation on me, saying he needs some space from the supernatural crazies (and me). Something's eating at him, because I know he never would have said what he did about regretting losing his virginity to me if he hadn't been hurting about something else already. Nevertheless, it was a slap to the face.

Then, Bonnie picks THIS DAY to do basically the same thing, saying she needs time without me (again). I don't know what I've done to hurt her or make her feel uncomfortable around me, but she claims I've changed because of all the supernatural stuff I get into. I think her exact words were that I'm 'sullied'. I really have no idea how to take that.

Finally, Rebekah followed me around for (I kid you not) an _hour_, describing in _detail_ what parts of me were exactly like Katherine and Tatia, and what parts weren't (and therefore inferior). In case you're wondering, Tatia's eyelashes were longer and fuller, and Katherine's mouth redder, but apparently all of our _elbows_ are identical.

Seriously, she had nothing better to do.

I managed to get home and up to my room without having to face Jeremy and the inevitable discussion about our finances. It only delayed it, but seriously, all I was asking for was tomorrow. Tomorrow I can deal.

Just call me little orphan Annie, whydoncha.

The shower was exactly what I needed. The noise of it was soothing, and the heat relaxed me. And though it's only an illusion, the solitude was exactly what I needed to shut out everything that had been hurting me today, making me feel like nothing could get me. I can't quite pretend that I still have a future, but at least I can find it in me to trust that sometime down the road, Matt and Bonnie will be my friends again, and Rebekah . . . will fly away to neverland? I dunno, but I can only hope she'll at least get bored soon.

Elbows. Seriously.

I like crying in the shower. If you have to cry, I can think of no better place than surrounded by white noise, hot water, and soap. You can snot all you want and just wash your face when you're done, and the heat and steam make your sinuses hurt less. Today, it's downright cathartic, and after I'm cried out and have spent another half hour relaxing under the spray, I'm ready for bed.

Of course, nothing about today could possibly be easy. Oh no, what was I thinking?

"Damon!" I will seriously never get used to just opening a door and finding him sitting there, completely silent, no warning. Never mind that I'm in a towel, though right now I'm more self-conscious about the state of my emotions than that of my undress. I confess, sometimes I get a thrill from it. He makes my heart beat hard and fast, and something about his eyes is just magnetic . . . Even as crappy as I feel, I can't help the rush of heat that wells up in me. But right now, I just want to be alone. I can't handle feeling as off-kilter as he makes me feel when I'm already on the verge of breaking down.

"Oh relax, it's nothing I haven't seen before," he says with this careless look, which is strangely reminiscent of Matt giving me the brush-off this afternoon. I feel like my sternum has gone soft. "And if I do see something I haven't before, I'll –" I can't bear to hear the rest of it, so I cut him off.

"Yeah, yeah, you'll throw a dollar at it. I know." I don't want to fight with him. I know he likes pushing at me, wheedling me. But I just don't have it in me today. Hearing his indifference when I'm laid so low is just heart-wrenching. I've definitely taken the wind out of his sails, but I can't even muster satisfaction as I grab some pj's and turn to change in the bathroom.

Great, these are for hot weather! I'm gonna freaking freeze tonight. But I'll be damned if I'm gonna go out there again undressed.

I don't even understand why he's here. There's nothing going on right now that requires us to interact. At all! I just want to be alone, to rebuild my defenses a little, and _voila_, here he is.

This day just really wants to break me.

I open the door, and he's standing there with his hand raised, about to knock. He can't even let me be alone in the bathroom? God, I just feel like everything is a physical blow, at this point. He looks startled for a second, then drops his gaze to my breasts, and I don't even feel my usual indignant anger. It's another slap to my dignity, but all I feel is the sting.

Dammit, I thought I was done crying.

I push past him to set my alarm clock. I know he won't take the hint and leave, because I'm fooling myself that hints work on him, but at this point, I don't know what else to do.

"Look, it's not that big a deal, ok?" His voice is drawling, like he's rolling his eyes. "I've seen you fairly scantily clad before, you know, what with all the near-death experiences and me making sure you weren't bleeding internally." He just makes me feel dirty, at this point. Him ogling my chest isn't a big deal. Oh no, of course not. "And after all, I've seen Katherine, so –"

That is IT! I give UP! I can't take it anymore! This day wants to kill me, or at least kill my heart. I'm already feeling self-conscious and low from being told that I'm sullied, inferior in every way to previous doppelgangers, and according to Matt, that I wasn't worth his first time.

And I'm not going to college.

I'm not worth anything. To anyone.

To Damon.

I want so badly to look away as I start to cry again, but somehow I just don't have the strength to. Damon's expression shifts to complete and total panic, and still, I can't move.

"Hey, what's . . . c'mon, I didn't see anything, really . . . " He reaches out to touch me, and I can't stand it. I whirl around and bury my face in my pillow.

I don't think I can handle him pitying me right now. Every single person I thought I could count on today for friendship and support has kicked me to the curb today, and going from what he just said, he's on that list, too. If he's going to offer me some scrap of kindness now because he feels bad for me, I think I might just break.

Or maybe I already have, considering what comes out of my mouth next.

"I know that I'm not special," I whisper, not really sure what I'm going to say until I say it. I want to stop, to just shut up as I dig myself further and further into humiliation. But I think I might be a little out of my mind right now, because I just can't. "I know that there's nothing . . . like you said, I look just like Katherine anyhow . . ." It seems like all of the dreams and fantasies I had for every aspect of my life, from financial, educational, social . . . romantic . . . like they've all just been dashed in one day. "I guess . . . I hoped that someday, I might get to – to show you . . ."

What, exactly? What have I been hoping for with Damon? A kiss? A date? Love? That we'd get married and have kids in a house with a picket fence and a dog? I don't even know. All my little half-baked fantasies seem utterly absurd now. I just know that he makes me all quivery inside, hot and numb at the same time, and so, so very self-concious.

"Show me what?" he asks, begging the question. His voice is completely different now, soft and gentle, and . . . breathless? Does he even need to breathe? I look at him, trying to hide my red nose and puffy eyes behind my hair, and I realize his hand is holding mine, and inexplicably warmer. I just do not get vampire physiology.

"I . . . I just wanted . . . " I can't bear to look at him as I admit that I want him, so I close my eyes. "I wanted to be able to come to you someday, and give you . . ." I just can't say it, I can't! "But I guess it's not much of a gift anyway, since you've already seen it, one way or another."

Can't he just go away and leave me alone? I know how this will end! After this day of all days, there is no other possible conclusion than that he break my heart into pieces too small for it to ever be reassembled. Crumbs. Fine powder. And here I thought a shower was going to save this evening for me. Following that logic, I'm gonna need Niagara Falls, now. And maybe a barrel in which to throw myself over them.

I'm drawn out of my thoughts by the feeling of my favorite fluffy blue robe settling over me. It's warm and comforting, and I realize that I am very, very cold. I look up, and Damon is kneeling next to the bed, his eyes downcast and ashamed.

Wait, what? Damon, _ashamed_?

He gently dresses me in the robe, tying the belt for me and lifting my hair out of the back. He finishes with a caress to my cheek, and it feels . . .

It feels like a balm on my wounds, is what it feels like. To hell with my pride, if this is his pity, I'll take it. At least it's kind. Even so . . .

"Damon . . .?" I ask, wanting to know what's going on. His face twists, and he looks like he's in pain himself.

"I'm an insensitive ass."

Well.

That is just about the last thing I ever expected to come out of his mouth. I watch him in astonishment as he continues.

"The reason I harass you like that is because . . . I want to get close to you, and I'm too chicken-shit to just come out and say so."

Waitwaitwait, hold the phone: _he_ wants to get close to _me_? After all that posturing, all the insistence that I'm a nothing more than a stand-in for Katherine, and a second-rate one at that? That I'm boring and up-tight? What he's saying, it's crazy, completely the opposite of everything he's said before, and obviously just designed to assuage his guilt.

"If you ever decided you wanted to share your body with me, Elena . . . I'd be the luckiest man in the world." He leans in slowly. "It would be the best gift you could ever give me."

What he's saying is exactly what my mortally wounded heart needs to hear. I feel my face move into a smile, and at his raised brow, I hold out my arms for a hug. He sits next to me and holds me, and while it doesn't make everything better, it makes THIS better, right now. I feel his lips touch my forehead and I just want to cling to him forever.

"I'm so sorry," he murmurs against my hair, and I press my cheek to his chest to feel the vibration of his words. "I will never take you, or your body, for granted again."

I'm too emotionally exhausted to test whether I believe that or not. For right now, in his arms is the safest and happiest I've felt all day. I guess I'm exhausted in other ways too, because before I know it, I'm nodding off. The feel of his lips on my skin again wakes me a little.

"I'll let you get some rest," he says, pulling away. Pulling away!? No, no please don't, please . . .

"W-will you . . . stay? Just – you know, just to sleep." I can't breathe until I hear his answer, that's how much I need him right now.

"Absolutely." His voice is warm and low, and while I can see desire in the way his hand closes over mine, and how he curves his torso around me as he pulls back my covers, I can also see him holding it back, not needling me with it. I feel him kicking his feet to get his shoes off, and a moment later I'm bundled up with him in my bed, warm and feeling supported for the first time all damn day.

God, he smells so good. His body is hard against me, but it's so comfortable having him hold me. He brings me close so I can lay against his chest, my head tucked between his neck and shoulder. His chin rests on top of my head, and his hand strokes over my hair. I try to tangle my feet with his, but unfortunately they're about eighteen inches lower on the bed than mine, so I have to settle for kicking him in the knee.

"Hey, I said I was sorry, no need to kick me," he teases, giving me a squeeze.

"Sorry," I mumble against his skin, "I didn't mean to." I heave a huge sigh. This, this affection, this is what I have needed all day. God, this day . . .

"You wanna tell me what's going on?" Damon asks, reading my mind, apparently. I do want to tell him, but I don't want to ruin this.

"It's nothing, just a bad day." I make a conscious effort to relax and let all my worries go hide in the closet, just for the night.

"You sure?" He pulls back just an inch, just enough to look into my face. "I know I was being an ass and I was completely out of line, but . . . well, you usually handle my jackassery a little better than that." He's being so . . . I dunno, _normal_. Wow.

"Just a lot of little things," I sigh. "Jeremy's and my finances have taken a bad turn, something about investments, blah blah blah. Bonnie isn't comfortable sharing air with me this week, and Matt . . . well, Matt MUST have something else eating at him, because I really don't think he would have told me he thought he'd wasted his first time on me otherwise. And Rebekah's just a bitc-"

"He said _WHAT?_" Dear god, Damon's voice actually cracked. Holy cow.

"I know, it's shitty, but it's really obvious that he was just venting –" Damon interrupts me again.

"I don't care if he's exuding toxic fumes, I don't give a shit!" I giggle at the imagery of that statement, but Damon has got his teeth in this. Fangs. Whatever. "That little asshat! That's it, next chance I get, I'm gonna shove his head so far up his ass – "

"No, Damon, please." I want that feeling of calm, that reassuring tenderness we had a second ago. "It's sweet that you want to . . . defend my honor, I guess." Damon's arms tighten around me, and I can tell he likes the sound of that – so do I. "But it won't make me feel any better."

"Yeah, but it'd make me feel _fantastic_," he mutters, but I can tell he's cooling his jets. "Seriously, that little shit doesn't know how lucky he was to have you." Aww. "So Witchy got judgy, Original Barbie got bitchy, Meathead got dickwad-y . . ." I can't help it, I have to giggle. That's pretty much what happened, after all. "What's up with your money?"

I sigh. I don't really want to go into this with him. I know he has money – I mean, it's pretty freaking obvious. And there's no helping it, really. There are no earners in my family right now. My parents didn't expect to die, and even then, they expected Jenna and John to step in – which they _did_, until they died _too_. There were two fail safes in place for Jeremy and me, but . . .

"It's nothing." I can tell from the shift of his muscles under his shirt that he's not letting that go. He turns my face to him with a gentle hand and holds my eyes with his.

"How bad?" I bite my lips, as if that'll keep the words in my mouth.

"Well, I can kiss college good-bye." His eyes widen. "We're gonna have a hard time keeping our house, actually . . ." I can just feel him gearing up to freak out at me again.

"What . . . Elena! Why didn't you say anything?!"

"I just got the report this morning, thanks very much! And what was I supposed to say, huh?" He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out for a few moments. He tries again.

"That's ridiculous. Of course you can go to college. And don't worry about your house."

"No." I sit bolt upright, pulling out of the comfort of his arms. Damn, I miss it already. "Damon, no, I refuse." He opens his mouth to argue me down, but dammit, this is one that he is not going to win. "Damon, I know you have money, and thank you for being generous, but we can't do that."

"Hell yes you can, you –"

"Damon, no." I want to cry again. I can't let him take care of me like that. I just can't. Not when I . . . I want different things from him. For us. I didn't lie, I want so badly for. . . to be with him, and if there's money between us . . .

And magically, he knows. I see his face shift, and he's thinking, adapting since I've vetoed one solution.

"Fine. But you're still going to college, and you're going to keep your house."

"Damon, please –"

"No, Elena, I get it, but I know another way I can help you." I cock my head at him curiously. "Let me work some of my entrepreneurial mojo with your finances. Give me access to your accounts, and let me see if I can't do something for you, ok?"

I'm pretty sure the kind of mojo he means involves a great deal of compulsion, but that is a favor that I can accept. I think about it for a minute to make sure there isn't a glaring reason why I can't let him, but really, it's the best solution.

"Just, please don't bankrupt anyone to do it, ok?" He relaxes and smirks at me.

"I promise, no sweet little old ladies will lose their pensions so you can go gets a degree in frat partying." His eyebrow quirks a bit. "Bill Gates, now, he might lose a couple million here and there." I'm too tired to do anything but roll my eyes at him.

"Well, he can spare it." I snuggle back against him, and he draws us back down against my pillows. "Thank you."

"Always."

We're quiet for a while after that. It's nice, peaceful. I'm on my way to nodding off again, when his voice brings me back.

"Did you mean it?" He's quiet, like he wasn't sure he actually wanted me to hear him. I know what he's referring to.

"Yes." Yes, I want to be with Damon. I've been dreaming of the day when I could offer myself to him since about a month after Stefan left. At first I thought I was just lonely, but now, I know.

I love him. Plain and simple.

You know what? It is. It _is_ plain and simple. I've loved him a long, long time, and this day has treated me like shit. He is the first part of it that hasn't made my heart just break.

And I want him.

Now.

Damon's eyes are wide and intense when I pull myself up so my face is level with his. His arms are already around me, so when I flip so that we're face to face, he's automatically pressing me against his hard chest from hips to nose. Take a moment to admire him: those eyes, dear god those eyes, mouth always ready for a smirk or snarky word, light sprinkling of stubble, straight nose that I so badly want to rub with my own right now . . . but first, I want a kiss.

Damon's eyes widen almost comically as I lean in, and suddenly, he's holding me away from him.

What? No, that's not what's supposed to happen! Dammit!

"Elena, what are you doing?" Aw, this is so cute, he almost sounds scared. Whatsamatter, big bad vampire scared to kiss a girl?

"What does it look like I'm doing, Damon?" I try to get at him, and he just won't let me go.

"Elena, no," his voice is gentle, and for a split second I'm afraid he's actually turning me down. In the next, however, he proves that he's just a bonehead. "Look, it's not that I don't want to, I mean, c'mon, I think I've made it pretty clear how I feel on the subject." I open my mouth to argue, 'yes, that's why I'm doing this, brainiac!', but he keeps talking. "You've had a shit day, you're feeling vulnerable, and you shouldn't do this just because you're upset." Ugh, typical man, blame it all on my stupid female feelings - oh lookit me, I'm a _girl_ and I can't make _decisions_ because I have _feelings_. Men!

"I'm not just doing it because I'm upset –"

" – Or out of some sense of gratitude to me, because this shouldn't be about that, Elena, I want you –"

"-And I want _you_, so let's just –"

"You're tired and emotional, and I can't take –"

I am so sick to death of this. This is so unlike him, too! Since when is he concerned about taking advantage of me when I'm literally trying to jump his bones? I'm starting to think I broke him or something by crying at him. I let him babble out a few more words, and then I just shut him up with that kiss he's been trying to put off.

Oh.

Oh my god.

His lips are so, so soft. He's surprised, so his mouth is wide open for me, and since he's in this bizarre hyper-chivalrous mood, he's so shocked he doesn't even kiss me back at first. I slide my hand up so I can run my fingers through his hair, and gently stroke my tongue over his. His hair is silky and his mouth tastes like bourbon and spice. My eyes slip shut, and the next thing I know, I'm under him and he's plundering my mouth.

_There's_ the Damon I know . . . and love.

I love the feeling of being pressed down into the bed by a man's body over me. I know some people find it uncomfortable, and Matt, for example, was always concerned about keeping his weight off me. Personally, the press of Damon's hips against mine, his chest against my breasts, his legs tangling around mine – god, I just love it. To be sure, he's not _crushing_ me, but it just makes me feel so . . . safe.

It also has the added benefit of letting me feel exactly how much he wants me right now. Going by the bulge pressing against my stomach, he wants me a LOT.

I push my hips up against his, and he moans against my mouth, low and sweet. The sound makes heat bloom between my legs, so I do it again, and again. After a minute, Damon wrenches his mouth away from mine.

"God, Elena . . ." Ooo, he's panting! "I want you so bad."

"Glad we're on the same page." I giggle a little bit, just because it feels good. What a relief that something feels good today. "Whatcha gonna do about it?" He answers with a predatory smirk and rears up to pull off his shirt. I swallow a couple of times at the sight of his body. I've seen him shirtless before – heck, I've seen him in his birthday suit– but he is flat out gorgeous. My hands make short work of my robe, and as I'm reaching for the hem of my camisole, Damon's join in to help.

"Mmm, Elena," he sighs, once I'm naked from the waist up, "you are just delicious." He caresses my left breast with his hand, and I suck in a sudden breath. The next second, his lips are wrapped around my other nipple, and my eyes slide shut as I run my hands through his hair again.

I gotta admit, my breasts are not the most sensitive part of me, but anywhere Damon touches me feels just incredible. I skim my hands over his back and shoulders, scraping him a little with my nails and letting my fingers dip under the back of his waistband. The the effect on him is pretty mind blowing: he moves between my breasts, kissing and sucking and gently biting, getting more and more worked up, so when he finally returns to my mouth his kiss is almost bruising in its intensity. His enthusiasm is catching, and I slide my hand between us to pry open the fly of his jeans.

Damon's cock is hot steel, and he feels so, so good in my hand. He isn't monstrously big – spontaneous enlargement is not a vampire power, people, get over it – but he's certainly well endowed, long and thick with a slight flare at the head where his foreskin is drawn back. The tip of him glistens with pre-come as he flexes a little in my grip. I tug my hand up, stroking him firmly, and he throws his head back and moans. The moan gets louder, more desperate, as I squeeze him right under the head and flit my fingers across that little sweet spot right on the underside of his tip. I feel a clench between my thighs at the sound, and I drop down to taste him.

"Oh, god, Elena . . ." he sighs, his cock twitching as my breath ghosts over his skin. I look up onto his eyes as my tongue darts out to lap at the tip of him. The sight of him makes me burn: mouth slack with desire, his amazing eyes glazed and dark, and a delicate sheen of sweat coating his skin. I open my mouth and take him inside, and he actually _whimpers_. Definitely feeling like a total sex goddess, I draw my lips and tongue slowly up and down over his hot flesh, sucking and teasing as I go. He tastes salty and musky – not good, exactly, but I can't get enough of him.

"Oh, _fuck_ Elena . . ." Damon's panting now, thrusting into my mouth. "Shit, honey, that feels so good." I smile around him, humming a wordless reply, and give one especially intense suck, and then he's yanking me away from his cock with a cute little yell of desperation. Next thing I know, he's devouring my mouth and pulling my pants down and off my legs. He rolls me under him, and his cock is pressing against my clit and –

"Ohgod –" My eyes squeeze shut from pleasure and a little pain as he pushes against the entrance to my vagina. Like I said, he's big, so it's gonna be a tight fit . . .

"I'm such a fucking moron . . ." he mutters, pulling out of my arms.

What? Where'd he go?

Oh . . . oh, ohhhhhhhGOD!

I look down and see the top of Damon's head between my legs, his hair spiking up every which way from me running my hands through it, and his tongue pressing inside me. He pulls my right leg over his shoulder, and raises his head just enough to nip the skin right in the crease between my thigh and my pubic mound. Then he ducks down again and –

And –

My brain completely short-circuits as Damon drags his tongue up through my folds, up to circle around and around my clit, getting narrower and narrower as I wind tighter and tighter. He does it again, and again, and again, and my eyes are crossing from the feeling. He slips his fingers inside me and the pressure I feel mounting intensifies exponentially.

"Aaaaaaaaaugh!" I shriek and clutch his hair as he suddenly breaks off his circling and wraps his lips around my clit to suck HARD, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. Dear GOD he is good at this.

"Oh god, Damon, oh GODohgod . . ." I'm tossing my head back and forth on my pillow, and my legs are twitching with each touch of his tongue. My back is arching farther and farther off the bed, and he's building me up, I can feel it, my orgasm is just around the corner . . . just . . . right there . . . oh, oh-

"Damon!" I try to yell his name, but it comes out as a desperate gasp because there is no room for air inside me as my orgasm thunders through my nerves. Damon continues to worship my clit, prolonging the sensations, until finally I feel it begin to ebb. He pulls himself up to me again, licking his lips and wiping his chin on the back of his hand. I draw him down to me, wanting to feel his skin against mine. "Damon . . ." I pant, but he cuts me off with a deep kiss before I can get anything else out. I can taste myself on his tongue, and it's so hot my brain blanks for a second.

"I wanna be inside you," he growls as he pulls away from my lips, just far enough to speak, close enough that I can feel his lips move on mine.

"Yes," I gasp in reply. "Yes, yesyesyes –" In the next second, he is inside me and I am frozen, paralyzed by sensation for a moment. Damon doesn't seem to be doing much better. His forehead is pressed hard against mine, his eyes are clenched closed, and his mouth is open in a tense rictus grin. He's deep in me, pushing hard against my cervix, his pubic bone crushed against my clit, as if by holding us together this hard for this long we'll stick.

"Alright, Elena?" he grinds out, peaking one eye open. I nod frantically, my hands clutching at the skin of his back.

"God, yes." Speaking has never been so hard. "More, please move, oh god –"

And he does.

Dear god, yes he does.

With aching slowness, he draws his hips back, and I swear I can feel every detail in the texture of his cock. It's fire, forked lightning, static over my skin, and then he pushes back in and I hear a loud keening noise, only to realize that it's coming from me. He sets up this slow, intense rhythm, not hard, but not gentle either. And it's good, because right now I don't want gentle. I want _him._

Damon is so beautiful as he thrusts in and out of me. He's breathing in this hard, measured rhythm, and his eyes, now open, are riveted to mine. His fangs are out, digging into his bottom lip, drawing two perfect drops of blood like rubies.

The red of his blood drew and held my gaze, like hypnosis. Slowly, I closed the distance between our mouths, just letting one of those drops wet mine.

"Do you want to bite me?" I whisper. His grip around me suddenly tightens, his next thrust bruising in its power. I look up at his face, and his eyes are dark with blood, the veins under them swelling. I'll take that as a yes.

"Are you sure?" he ground out. Looking at him like this, feeling his cock pushing me higher and higher towards ecstasy, I know without a shadow of a doubt that I want him to bite me. And furthermore, I know that when he does . . .

I'm gonna come like an atom bomb.

There's no way I can find enough brain cells not drunk on hormones and endorphins to actually say all that, however, so I tilt my head to the side and pull on his neck to bring him in close.

I'm so, so close. The feel of his breath panting over the skin covering my pulse is sweet agony. My body is already singing from the sweet friction of his dick inside me, and I can feel a cool tingling in my hands and feet as the blood in my body surges out of my extremities to rush between my legs.

"Ah . . . ah . . . Damon . . ." are the only words I can force out, but I try to communicate what I need. "P . . . p . . . _please_!"

With a sound that's halfway between a moan and a snarl, he rears back and then plunges his fangs into my throat. It hurts for a moment, but I'm so far gone that all I can register is that he has penetrated me in a new way. He draws on the wound, taking a mouthful of my blood, and I swear to god it feels like he just wrapped his lips around my clit again.

"Aaaauuuugh, Damon, Damon, _YES_!"

My vision whites out, and all I can hear is a dull roaring in my ears. My back arches off the bed, convulsively pushing up hard to meet his thrusts as I come, hard and long. I come for so hard for so long that I can't breathe, every muscle too focused on the pleasure ripping through me to even do that much. My mind grows fuzzy, and the last thing I remember is Damon crying out my name above me and the feel of his throbbing cock pulsing inside me as he comes.

I return to awareness cuddled against Damon's chest, with his arms holding me securely against him. Sweat is drying on both of us, suggesting I wasn't out for all that long.

"There you are," he murmurs in my ear. "I was getting worried."

"Mmmm . . . how long was I asleep?" I sigh, stretching and enjoying the feeling of his skin rubbing against mine. His hands stroke down my back, pulling me tighter against him.

"I think you mean passed out," he drawls, smirking at me. "Only a few minutes. Don't feel embarrassed," he sooths as I gape at him. "If I were getting fucked by me, I'd probably pass out from pleasure, too."

If Damon were getting fucked by Damon . . . the mental image is enough to bring a flush to my face. Damon's smirk deepens.

"Now now, don't get me all worked up again," he warns, nuzzling his nose into my hair. The tenderness in that gesture softens his mocking tone. "I'm not sure you could handle another round with me just yet." Part of me wants to tease him back, but I just can't resist breaking through with a little bit of truth.

"Damon." He looks into my eyes. "That was . . ." I trail off because I have no words for what that was. The closest I can get is . . . I close my eyes for a moment, and when I open them, he's watching me with a look that's half apprehension, half anticipation. I draw in a breath: "I love you."

I have never seen Damon Salvatore smile like that. Ever. In my dizziest daydreams. And I suspect no one else ever has either, because if anyone else had, they'd never have let him stop smiling at them. I certainly won't.

"I love you," he whispers back, before softly smoothing his lips over mine. It's soothing and wonderful, and I am increasingly aware of how exhausted I am. This day has been an emotional roller coaster, and while I may have ended it at a wonderful high, it's still been grueling. He laughs as I stifle a yawn against his lips and smooths his hand over my hair.

"Sleepytime, Elena," he teases, bringing my head down to rest against his shoulder.

"You'll stay, right?" I ask drowsily, my eyes already sliding shut. He kisses my forehead and holds me tighter.

"Absolutely."


End file.
